Gregory Cox Poet Epic

The Greatest Disease I

Read all III or you will not see

I awoke, my tears were flowing and I could not 

stop the sobs that were tearing from my soul. 

Though it was mid-day, it was dark, it was always 

dark. The sun was shining but darkness of the 

heart obscured its rays. Mom was dying and while 

it was not a necessary death, it was going to 

happen. I was not thinking of myself, although I 

knew I would not survive her passing. My sickened 

soul was torn by the futility, the heartlessness 

and great weight of unconcern. My siblings, great 

Doctors, Scientists, and Priests among them 

explained somatically, mathematically, and 

ethically why it was going to happen, however, it 

was still unnecessary. I was young, just the 

blink of an eye, the ink of my birth certificate 

not yet dry, I could not survive without my 

mother, nor could they, but truth be known they 

did not care. Yes, I had not historically great 

years but even in my short tenure, I could see 

the decline. The shine of her hair, the gleam in 

her eyes all this was dulled and I knew the fluid 

circulating through her system was poisoned. Her 

breath had the stench of decay and they would not 

stop her going away. It was cancer I was told, 

insidious, unchecked, out of control. Yes they 

knew the diagnosis, but their crime was, they 

knew the cure and for this cancer it was not 

harsh. No surgery, chemotherapy, and with 

reasonable restraint no fear of reoccurrence, a 

simple one hundred percent cure.

(continued below The greatest disease II

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